


Plastic Beach: The Saga

by StrictlyRubbadub



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bad Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Drunk Murdoc Niccals, Drunk Stuart "2D" Pot, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Other, Phase Three (Gorillaz), Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrictlyRubbadub/pseuds/StrictlyRubbadub
Summary: 2D awakens to find himself on a beach made of trash, where he's held captive by Murdoc, who's constantly drunk and slowly descending into madness. What goes on turns from bad, to worse, to terrifying.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals & Stuart "2D" Pot
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Plastic Beach: The Saga

**Author's Note:**

> Right. So nothing crazy happening yet, but just a fair warning: it will and does get worse. This shit will be insane. If you don't think you can handle it, just don't read it, because there's definitely other shit out there that you'll love way more.

Beirut.

Peaceful and beautiful, with tall buildings, the sea rolling in gentle waves against the golden sand.

2D stared out the large window of his hotel as if he were mesmerized, his white eyes blank, his skin warmed by the sunlight.

Summer in France.

Kind of a paradise.

At least, that's what most anyone would think. But 2D hadn't taken the time to think about it. Ever since he'd arrived, he'd just been sitting in this hotel room on the fourth floor, staring out the window, taking in the world outside that was only a few steps away from him.

He put his fingers on the glass, lazily, smiling faintly at the coolness.

It was mildly satisfying, and he took his hand away only to place it back again, finger by finger.

It was nice to be away from the band for a while - from Murdoc specifically.

The bloke was confusing, and 2D never knew how to feel about him.

For a while, Murdoc had been 2D's hero, his idol. He looked up to him, thinking he could never be as cool, as dangerous, as bloody fucking awesome.

But Murdoc seemed to hate his guts. Always hitting 2D, slapping him around, calling him names. Like he didn't give a fuck about him.

Sure, sometimes Murdoc could be nice. On rare occasions, he'd act more like a brother, a mate. Sling his arm around 2D, and play video games with him, laugh at his nonsense and his bouts of confusion. Help him find the right words, light up his cigarette, tie his shoelaces.

Nice things. Things that made 2D look up in his blind, foggy way and say: "I love you, Murdoc."

But the fog was clearing. Maybe it was the isolation, or maybe it was just the distance. At any rate, 2D was pretty sure his days of "loving" Murdoc, in any way, shape, or form were over. Maybe there would still be some blind admiration, from sheer force of habit, or because he couldn't help it.

He had a jealousy, a kind of desire for Murdoc's confidence. 2D always had a streak of cockiness in him, born out of his good looks and a general degree of happiness with himself, but it was nothing compared to Murdoc's complete "I-don't-give-a-fuck" attitude.

Murdoc really had nothing to be so proud of, at least not if you listened to half the people who talked about him. But he carried himself with such strength that you felt afraid of him, or at least a bit anxious of what he would do next.

Whether you liked him, thought highly of him or not, he didn't give a shit. He was gonna do what he wanted to do, and fuck you. It was an attitude that mesmerized 2D, especially since when he was first recovering from the D-Day events, his own mind was so out of control he had very little confidence in anything he did.

Even now, just thinking about those times, he found himself grinning inwardly.

On the outside, though, he was blank as ever.

Breathing slowly, slightly concerned about the faint aura that seemed to be forming in the right field of his vision.

That's when he sniffed it.

Something foreign, odd.

For a moment he just inhaled mindlessly, trying to discern the scent, and he was overpowered by it, collapsing forward against the window, his forehead cracking the glass.

When he regained consciousness, he was encased in darkness.

Instinctively he kicked his way out, and realized he was scrunched up in a three-foot suitcase on the edge of a beach. But not in Beirut.

It was a beach covered in trash, plastics and metal and tin, abandoned toys, soda cans, disposables, cardboard. It floated in the sea around him, which was a sickly green color; littered the sparkling sands; even the sky seemed muddied with filth.

The air was damp and breezy, a bit humid.

2D squinted into the sunlight, wondering where the hell he was and how he'd got there.

"Well. So you finally can stand to look at me, eh?" Murdoc's scaly voice rasped in his ear.

He turned to see the bassist sitting there about a foot away, facing opposite, not looking at 2D.

"Mu'doc? Do ya know what's goin' on?" 2D asked, climbing fully out of the suitcase.

"Of course I do," Murdoc grinned, rubbing his fingers together. "You're here to record an album. What do you think?"

"Huh?" 2D was genuinely confused.

"Our new album, bungface. The one I'm working on. The one I wrote. The masterpiece of Gorillaz, that's what it is. Greatest thing ever. But what would it be without your vocals, eh?" Murdoc rolled his eyes. "The fans, they're all about your voice, ya know? I'd do it myself any day, seeing as I'm a far better singer than you'll ever be, ya sorry sod, but ya got to please the audience, else you're sunk."

"Is that so?" 2D raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to argue over who actually sang better. "Well, news flash, mister. I don' wan' any part o' this. I'm goin' back to Beirut, and I'm gonna -"

"Gor, have I got a news flash for you then," said Murdoc, whirling around unexpectedly. He gripped 2D firmly around the throat with one hand. "You're stayin' here til I say you can leave. End of story, mate."

2D frowned, trying to pry Murdoc's fingers off. "Do ya mean I'm a prisoner?"

"Don't be so nasty about it," Murdoc said with faux offense. "but yeah, basically."

"Ya can't keep me here," said 2D, getting to his feet. "I can find a way out. An' I will, too."

"Oh, that's what you think. You think it's just me here. A spindly old man who's turnin' green from the seaweed. But no, it's not. I've got reinforcements. Meet _her_." Murdoc gestured to a small robotic girl who resembled Noodle, who had walked up at the snap of Murdoc's fingers.

"Bloody 'ell?" 2D thought. Aloud he said: "Oh. So you built a robot version o' Noodle. Classy."

"Look ducks, when an album needs to be made, it gets made, okay?" Murdoc said. "And that means regardless of the circumstances, I make things happen. How do you think I made this band, for Lucifer's sake? By playin' nice, bein' a class act? Get the fuck out of here with that rubbish."

"I cahn't, seein' as I'm stuck 'ere," said 2D, absently scratching his leg.

"Stuck 'ere? You think you're stuck 'ere now? Well, it gets worse mate. A hell of a lot worse." Murdoc grinned almost sadistically. "If you think you're gonna be livin' up here, out in the fresh air, where you could very well escape, you're a fool." He clicked his tongue twice, and Cyborg Noodle cocked her gun and pointed it straight at 2D.

2D merely raised an eyebrow. It's not that he didn't appreciate just what a fucked-up situation he was in. It's just that at this point in his life, he'd seen a lot worse and he wasn't exactly scared.

"Nope," Murdoc went on. "You're gonna be down in an underwater chamber. Locked up nice and tight. And don't worry, I'll come down to feed you every once in a while. Or I'll send 'er, not sure."

2D could feel his stomach sinking. "You've got ta be on some kind o' joke." he said thickly.

"More like thirty bottles of rum, mate." Murdoc replied. "But you'll be fine, trust me. Ain't as bad as it sounds, and you won't be down there all the time. If you behave, I might even let you roam around on occasion, yeah?"

"Oh my God." 2D bit his lip in irritation. _**As if basic liberty and freedom was a privelege.**_

"Don't even think of 'Oh my God'-ding me," said Murdoc. "I know, I know, figure of speech and that. It slips out of me on occasion, too. Christ, Jesus, all that rot. But it's over." He made a slashing gesture. "Completely and thoroughly over. God colloquialisms are dying on this beach, because God doesn't give a bloody fuck about any one of us."

"Whatever," sighed 2D. The last thing he wanted was to hear Murdoc's drunken ramblings about God and Satan and how he got struck by lightning that one time in the cemetery at Kong.

"And don't start bein' insolent with me, either," said Murdoc, grabbing 2D by the scruff of his shirt. "Come on. I'm takin' you underground."

2D shook his head.

What the hell was even happening?

* * *

Murdoc dumped him unceremoniously into the underwater chamber, laughing as 2D rubbed his elbows and forehead from the hard knock.

"Good luck," the bassist said. "Oh, and watch for the whale. He's keeping an eye on you. Like a Massive Dick." He laughed and walked up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

If 2D wasn't scared before, now he was terrified.

Whales were a phobia of his.

Wasn't sure why he was so frightened of them, but every time they made his heart jump into his throat and he'd cower like a baby. And now there was a fucking whale right outside the window of **the room he'd be living in**.

And not just an ordinary whale.

A whale that was keeping an eye on him. Who would probably kill him at the drop of a hat.

He leaned against the bed, facing away from the little circular window where he was sure the whale's enormous eye was staring at him, and felt sick.

Then his eyes fell on the TV in the corner of the room. A DVD player was set up, and a VHS machine. 2D quickly looked under the bed. A whole case of his zombie films - both on Blu-Ray, regular DVD, and VHS - lay there, already gathering dust and cobwebs.

 _Damn, that's nice_ , he thought. Relaxing in an underwater chamber in the middle of an island made of trash, where he was being held captive at the mercy of a piss-faced, half-mad English bloke from Stoke-on-Trent, watching a zombie film and smoking a cigarette.

Did he really just think all those words?

He rubbed his forehead, trying not to panic at the thought of the whale that was casting a shadow across the cold floor.

_Just watch a film, and chill. You'll be fine._

2D slipped his well-worn copy of "Night of the Living Dead" into the VHS machine, and watched as the old television slowly flickered on. A bit of static as the tape aligned itself, and then the movie started.

Not everyone would've felt relaxed by a film depicting cannibalistic undead corpses, with copious screaming and blood, but 2D had been watching and re-watching this one since he was too young to remember. It was like a lullaby by now.

Slowly his eyes closed, and before long he was laying there, leaning against the bed, in a nice drowsy state between sleeping and wakefulness.

"Are they slow-moving chief?" droned from the TV.

"Yeah, they're dead. They're all messed up."

2D's eyes closed...

But he was soon jarred awake by loud banging on the door.

* * *

At first 2D was confused. Why would anyone be banging on the door? He was locked inside, after all, it's not like he could run and open it.

Then it came to him. It was just to be annoying.

"Yah can sod off with that bullshit, Murdoc," 2D said tiredly. "'cos I'm awake and I got a bloody 'eadache."

Murdoc laughed mischievously, swinging the door open with unnecessary force so that it slammed into the wall, making even more noise.

2D sighed, pressing his fingers into his temple. 

"Well, never mind about that, mate." Murdoc slapped 2D's hand away, and forced him to look at the package he was carrying. "I got you a brand new box of all the pills you'll ever need. A dream for a junkie like yourself." He laughed into his sleeve, grinning at 2D's clouded expression. "If you need more, I can see to it that you get them. But I'd be an _idiot_ if I paid for loads just so _you_ can OD twenty-four-seven, so go easy, a'ight?"

He dropped the box heavily to the floor, just in front of 2D.

2D instinctively reached for one of the bottles, but realized it would be at the height of folly to go downing an obscenely large dose with Murdoc standing right in front of him.

In fact, the old tosser was grinning slyly, as if he'd expected just that to happen.

2D couldn't hide a grin of his own as he turned back to the television. It felt nice to be ahead of Murdoc's game for once. 

Murdoc stood there for a few seconds, staring blankly at the TV screen, his eyes frequently darting back to 2D. Then he finally gave up, sighing as he turned to leave. "Oi, face-ache?" he called.

"Yeh?" 2D turned without thinking. Instantly, an empty beer can clonked him full in the face.

"You never do learn, do you? God, what a bloody twerp." Murdoc laughed as he left, slamming the door behind him. Moments later, the key sounded loudly in the lock.

Funny that Murdoc should be spouting "God" not long after denouncing those phrases, was the first thought that popped in 2D's head, but he quickly forgot about it as the pounding in his head worsened.

Fuck Murdoc for throwing that can at him. It made the pain worse.

He opened the first bottle of pills, and shook six into his hand. Swallowed it with ease. He didn't need water, not at this point, where he practically salivated at the mere thought of getting the meds in his system.

For a while after he just sat there, staring at the TV screen, when the drugs kicked in. And man did they kick in hard. And beautifully.

He slid further down, his hand trailing carelessly to his chest, trying to keep a hold on reality. He smiled slowly; the world was getting fuzzy. Dreamy. Filled with haze and warmth and comfort.

2D succumbed to the darkness, which felt like rays of sunshine.

**Author's Note:**

> And so, because I have the perfect voice for it: Good night, I love you all.


End file.
